


Ballad of Mary Jane

by Noir_Dix



Series: The Gospel of Mary Goore [9]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Mary Goore - Fandom
Genre: But he keeps on with it., Candles., DIY bondage., Dancin' With Myse-elf..., Dix tries hard., Exquisite detail of Mary's scrawny torso., F/M, Getting "ready"., Hard cocks., Holy tents., It's a stretch., Minor fighting, Plotting nastiness., Reminiscing., Song inspiration., Vestments., Wanking on the telephone..., meanness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: Remember L.A. Guns? I do. 🎸This is the exciting conclusion of: 'Wtf was Mary THINKING?!'There are several things coming up that I've been going on about, FOR AGES.It's very soap-opera... &, obscenely long.
Relationships: Dix/Mary Goore, Popia (Basil)/Dix
Series: The Gospel of Mary Goore [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640098
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Dix had set up a playdate...

With, herself.

Basil had trotted off to the pop-up studio, a short while earlier. She had grabbed a mini-cruller, before taking her own quick shower. She now sat on the pomegranate-red sofa, a small handful of her favorite toys close by. The TV was ready for action, with the NO SIGNAL screen showing, for now.

She wore a purloined Cats t-shirt. It was vintage, probably from the original Broadway run.

It belonged to the great Satan, currently doing whatever he did, back at world headquarters.

She wore nothing else. She breathed in, deeply. In spite of her own fruity shower scents, the shirt still smelled of designer cologne.

Where to begin? Jonny fucking his tall, amazon redhead, while she acted like a lifeless doll; or, Jonny being tied, tortured, & face-fucked?

What a waste, though.

And, yes. She knew how truly weird it was, to get off on watching a little punk man, (that looked rather alarmingly like two she was fucking, herself).

Their eyes were prettier, though.

Plus, her favorite porn actor had very obviously been cut. All of her old Scandinavian men were still intact.

Her phone rang, & she about jumped out of her skin, as per usual.

"Hey."

She rolled her eyes, at Mary's understated brilliance.

She'd been doing _so_ well... Exemplary.

"You make me sound like a bad habit." 

Oh, but _he was_.

"What's up?"

Addictive as hell, too.

She could see him frowning, in her mind's eye. She stared at the black screen, waiting.

"Why do I keep getting, _self-care_? Ooh... you're gonna show me?"

She sighed. There went her plans, for the evening. A heavy bass beat started thumping, somewhere.

She tugged at the hem of the t-shirt, it was already a short slim fit, but, she pulled it up past her waist. She sat back, spreading her legs wide, before arching her hips.

" _Fuck me_. God damn, woman."

"You know... I had plans, Mare–"

"Flicking your bean into oblivion is not a _plan_."

She felt her mouth set.

"I've got something better."

_Cocksure little bastard._

"That remains to be seen."

"Can you come, to the sanctuary?"

She noticed the odd emphasis. Again, with the goddamn sanctuary. Of course, everyone was busy rehearsing...

Basil was probably noodling around with the guitars, & trying to pass it off as mere curiosity.

Which was hotter than any porn marathon, she was sorry to say.

"I'll have to put on _pants_." she griped.

"Unf." she knew he had himself firmly in hand, & was probably gnawing his bottom lip.

Strangely enough, she wasn't getting any clear visuals. It was like he was hiding something...

"Actually, could you, umm–"

She waited, again.

"Do you have any loose habits, around?"

She frowned; this was getting rather specific.

"I might. Don't know how well it fits, though... I keep losing weight."

"Unnf." was what she got, again.

She wondered if he was actively masturbating.

Mary generally wasn't the one to just take his dick out & start–

"You're damn right, I am."

Oh. Well. All right, then. She listened, for the sound of one hand slapping.

Basil was the one never above charging admission. This was something kind of new.

She wondered, (some more) if he was pinching his tip, to trap the cum.

"Oh God, God, God DAMN– Will you just get your pretty ass down here?"

She had a thought.

"You want the whole outfit?"

He was grunting, most unbecomingly. She squirmed.

_"What?"_

"The veil."

"Fuck– Oh fuck, yes." he panted.

She hung up. One load, blown.

She turned the TV off.


	2. Chapter 2

_What was he up to?_ He didn't have the nun fetish–

That she knew of.

She gave her head a little shake.

All she knew was that Mary liked girls... Pale, pretty things, preferably just a bit shorter than him, but, that was no deal-breaker. He would quite literally fuck anything, & the more, the merrier.

She dug around the bottom of a storage container, searching for the habit.

She'd spied on him & his ghoul buddies, out in the woods... A few times.

His multi-tasking had been impressive. He knew damn good & well she was out there, too.

She finally found her quarry, & frowned. Naturally, the thing was all wrinkled.

Undies or no? She considered, for about a second.

No. She _would_ do her ivory thigh-highs, though. He would like that.

With combat boots.

She got that much into place, & did her little swipes of loose powder & silver eyeliner.

He was obviously trying to pull _something_ off, she could do a little make-up. She put on some of the dark, bloody red lipstick that she'd only recently rediscovered.

She had the feeling that someone had "borrowed" it... She sniffed. Someone that still smoked like a fiend.

She really hated to take off the t-shirt. A small Swedish Satan shouldn't smell so good. It just wasn't right.

She changed, with a sigh. Next on the agenda was whether to conveniently leave her phone behind.

She could do without Basil eventually paging her, but–

Well, hell. Maybe _she_ would like to tape something. She very badly wanted a copy of that night with him & Tob–

Time to find out, about tonight.

She did a quick job of loosely pulling her hair back, putting the wimple in place & pinning it, with little gold bobby-pins.

Basil, for all the grief he gave her over the damn headdresses, seriously loved removing the pins.

She'd seen him squirt a little, over it.

 _Damn_.

They'd been passing like ships in the dark, lately. She'd allowed it, consumed by guilt, & worried about keeping all the secrets straight.

Time. She'd have to make time for her old rat.

Another night.

She grabbed the phone on impulse, & loaded her old Crown Royal bag with the usual items. She also threw in her cloves & a lighter, (which they all, to a man, hated).

She just had a feeling.

A feeling that she was about to be fucked, soundly.

"I'm going straight to hell." she told her reflection.

She locked up, & went on her way.

Disjointed bits of music still echoed throughout the church. The acoustics of this place left a lot to be desired. Of course, they were basically jamming, at this point.

Cumulus did a loud cry, & effectively drowned everything out, for a moment.

As she approached, one of the massive old wood doors had been propped open for her.

The sanctuary was dim. Candles flickered, & a shade stood in the position of power, hands behind his back.

He wore a black cassock. No cape. No silly hat... He did have the watered sash. He opened his arms.

"Do you remember, that old bombed out church, all those years ago?"

She frowned, as he embraced her.

"France?"

"Oui." he growled, & her knees buckled, thankfully out of sight. He felt it though, gripping her elbows as he bent to kiss her.

"I remember that damn dawn patrol. I was scared to death–" she finally answered, breathlessly.

"Poor choice of words, angel."

They hardly ever used _that_. Any of them, anymore.

"Your new master seems to like it."

_She didn't know–_

"You came for me." he continued in a near-whisper, savoring his double entendre.

"I was scared." she repeated, already tired of his game.

She had been sure that Basil was in terrible danger.

"There were still all the candles–"

"You're over-romanticising it."

"They were black, with soot."

"You fucked me, on a dirty, nasty, old floor. I had splinters in my ass, for days. That was fun to try & explain."

He looked at her, eyes heavy-lidded. He moved in, for another kiss, then stalled.

"You little liar!" he poked her. "You were on top. So... splinters in your _knees_ , maybe–"

She smiled, glad that he'd caught her.

"What. So you want to do it, again?"

"Ever since Tobbe came up with that damn clock song–"

She snorted. She couldn't help it.

"I should be wearing a cloak, then."

"Yeah, well..." his hands slid to squeeze her ass, "You always crave these stupid dresses–"

"Not the wand?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." he muttered, grinding against her. He was already half-hard, again.

"You'd rather I beg for your cock?"

He grabbed a handful of her full skirt & started hoisting.

"Well?"

"I won't stop you." he smiled, at her boots. "What else is underneath?"

She watched his slow progression. His eyes went wide, when he got past the fancy lace at the top of her stockings & encountered nothing else.

"Fuuuck."

Something very obviously started poking out. She looked down, at his own scuffed combats.

"Matchy matchy?"

"Huh?"

She patted the mini tabernacle.

"No under-things?"

He moved against her hand, but, seemed sort of dazed.

"Mmm-mm."

"Your blood's pumping too fast." she kept playing with him, "That's very cute, Mary, how we think alike."

"I want you. On the altar."

She gripped him, working the fabric of the borrowed vestment carefully.

Not wanting to chafe.

"Did you unbutton, earlier, or, just pull the skirt up?"

A wet spot started, to the side of the buttons.

"Skirt." he breathed.

She tsked him.

"I want _you_ , but you'll _have_ to unbutton–"

He groaned, loudly.

"At least a little."

He gave her a look. She took a hand, & pulled him with her into the nearest pew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put Mary in that cassock forever ago. It's had several incarnations, mainly with whether to have his corpse-paint, or not.  
> My Mary looks deathly in general, though.  
> In the small hours, I still put him in the cassock.
> 
> (And, yeah. That's a Copia stance.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a silly chapter.  
> Enjoy it, while it lasts...
> 
> (It got dirtier, as I worked on it.)

She started with her fingertips at his sinewy neck. The high collar only half-concealed the old rope burn, that went up into his ragged hairline. It had faded into a dark shadow, after all this time.

"Mmm." he nuzzled _her_ neck, fangs lightly grazing. "I smell pussy–"

She shifted, guiltily.

"–mangos... What is that, some fancy, designer bullshit?"

She slid her fingers down, past his stark collarbone. The cassock was distressed; threadbare & torn, in spots.

"You missed the pomegranates." she poked her finger in a little hole, "Are you talking about the cologne?"

"Cologne?"

"Cologne. The t-shirt I was wearing smells of it."

He made a face, before pointedly staring up at the front of the room.

"Oh! That turned out well, Mare." she only now noticed the large, upside-down cross.

He perked up, momentarily.

"Tack."

She smoothed her hands down his slight chest, accidentally on purpose thumbing where she knew his nipples were, to make him squirm. 

He indulged her.

"Not jealous of Tobbe, I hope?"

She watched his jaw work.

"How on earth did you get one of his shirts?"

"I'll never tell."

_It wasn't exactly hard to figure out._

"Fuck." he huffed.

Mary didn't _do_ jealous. It was a matter of principle.

She squeezed a thigh, wishing she could tell him.

"So. Show me what you've done." she decided to distract him.

She had been working her way down, past his waist, to start on the damnable tiny buttons.

There really were candles, everywhere. Mainly black. There were some bad, garish red tapers, as well.

She was pondering this, when another small shade entered, without fanfare.

It wore the mask of a ghoul.

It was quite small, yet compelling.

"Mary."

"Dix?"

She sighed.

"Mary, what's Per doing here?"

"Per? You don't know that's Per. Why, it could be anyone."

"Why the old camcorder?"

"Oh, well... Ah. Um–"

"Take the mask off, gremlin."

He chuckled, even as he did so.

"Hi there, vampy."

Crooked grin, Satan preserve her.

"Mary–"

"Okay. Fuck. God."

He was just the slightest bit flustered.

"You think we need a camera man?"

He blinked, clearly not expecting her bland observation.

"You're not mad?"

"The better porn has more than just phones, pointed at body parts... You think I don't know that?"

"You're not mad?"

His needle was stuck.

"What about him?"

"Oh, thanks for the consideration." Per was now fiddling with the vintage electronic, "But, I've got a couple of things lined up–"

"Uh-huh." she made sure to show a disconcerting amount of fang.

His eyes went wide.

"If you fancy a bite, I'll be happy to oblige you."

"Hey–" Mary made a token protest.

I'm down to try some DIY."

Back to the buttons. Her fingers met, at the dent of his belly. It was as good a place as any...

She needed a sizable gap.

This was going to take forever.

Mary scooted back in the pew, then arched his hips, so her hand went from the buttons to his erection.

"Naughty–" she scolded. He was on fire, & ridiculously hard... This was _through_ the fabric.

"Just pull the goddamn skirt up."

She'd gotten maybe six buttons undone.

_Smug little–_

He smirked.

The ghoul was watching them, fascinated.

The anonymous ghoul voyeur! At long last, she'd found him.

She turned to eye the candles, the old red tapers, in particular.

What to do? There were several options. It was like a Choose Your Own Adventure book.

Per tried to run the old camera. She made a subtle movement, with her unoccupied hand. Mary noticed & frowned.

"Aw, man." he grumped, "I've been playing with this thing all evening, & _now_ it decides to quit working?"

"Dix?" Mary growled.

She batted her eyes, innocently. (It took a lot, with the growl.)

"I want to do something to you, Goore–" she squeezed, & although she had only made a small gap, his cock head peeped out. "Oh, hello."

"Fucking Jedi– I know _just_ who you learned that from."

"Hm." she was staring, "You _might not want the gremlin to see._ "

"Oh, shit." he put the lens cap on.

Mary was peeved, but, intrigued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep hearing y'all go on about Mary's neck... So, I decided to make a point of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting to get... weird.

"Hm." she couldn't resist, _it was right there_. "How about a rain check, Per?"

"Uhmmm..."

He was still watching. Mary was perplexed, as to what might be more offensive.

Neither would break eye contact.

"Ohkayy."

The lead guitar ghoul rose unsteadily, & Dix noticed he was making quite the statement in his black sweat pants.

"Leave the camera." Mary intoned, before leaning back into the pew.

"Don't get in too much trouble." Dix tried, & he snickered. 

"Why isn't he recording?" she asked.

Mary shrugged.

"Told me they didn't need him, tonight." he went back to watching her handy-work. "So. What have you got in mind for me, succubus? Does it involve more than my leaking head?"

"Oh, hush. It's what popped out at me."

She gestured at the candles.

"How long were you going to keep this up?"

"Now, Mary. I know that's not modesty I'm hearing."

He thought.

"No... But, what could I _not_ want him to see?"

"Don't be obtuse."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Wax play?"

She tried not to shiver.

"I know." he said with more irritating smugness. "Hardly exotic, though."

"The tapers."

"Ugly old things, aren't they?"

"I was thinking of sticking a candle up your ass."

He blinked.

"Nooo– No, no, no, no, no, no, NO. Those things are ancient, & they smell like old crayons."

"Ooh, scary Mary's afraid of a little old candle?"

He frowned, explicitly.

"Not my kink. Not interested."

"Aww." she pouted. "Well, what if I go back to the suite, & get some vinyl gloves to tickle your asshole?"

"Why are you after my asshole?!" he asked, shortly.

"Touchy!" now she sat back, assessing his mood. "It was just the candles, Mare. They kind of inspired me."

He harrumphed, folding his arms. She ran a hand up the thigh closest to her.

"Tell me, though. You've never had anyone... anything, up your ass?"

She leaned to nip his earlobe before squeezing his thigh.

"I can make you cum so hard, you'll cry."

He snorted, downright derisively.

"If you're talking about Basil, that clown'll cry at the drop of his own stupid fedora."

Her turn to frown.

"He's a terribly damaged man."

"Bullshit."

He stared up at the altar, again.

She waited.

"Days. _Days_ , I've been planning this. You & your damn vestment hang-ups... The sanctuary's been empty. It was _perfect_."

"The best laid plans–"

"Fuck _that_."

He turned & surprised her, pinning her down in the pew.

She made an inarticulate squeak, before noting again the damage to the cassock.

To her eternal shame.

"What did you do to this thing?"

He sighed, but didn't move from between her legs.

"Talked to our mutual friend."

She raised her eyebrows.

"The elf."

"Keebie? Okay–"

"She has some excellent ideas on DIY bondage stuff."

"Oh, I _know_. Do tell."

He tickled her, instead.

"You know, do you?"

She giggled.

"Gloves. With steel-"

"Banjo picks."

"Shit. I guess you _do_ know."

"Mmm. So, you decided to play naughty pussycat, & shred a poor, unsuspecting black cassock?"

"Well–"

"Well?"

"I got really fucking drunk, first."

"I bet that was a fun night."

He shrugged.

"Smirnoff, shredding, then jerking off. You wanted the damage, right?"

She bit her lip. Best part of Angels & Demons... It was sweet of him to remember _that_.

"Could've used some company." he hitched her leg on the edge of the pew up.

The gap was so small, it was still keeping him at bay.

"You kept the 'gloves' together?"

"Uh-huh." his eyes went half-lidded, "Have you been bad, baby?"

_Of course she had._

"What are you gonna do to me?" she breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair.

It wasn't right, to tease like this... She was about to yank his skirt up, if they didn't get moving, soon.

"I wish you would." he moved against her.

"Let's blow out the candles–"

"I want to fill you up."

"I'll go back to the suite–"

"While I'll be more than glad to fuck you, in that bourgeois old bed–"

"Now, now... You know better than that."

"I know it's just furniture."

It was. It was also status.

"Not happy with your own stuff, Mary Jane?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keebie's banjo pick gloves actually came up in a conversation.  
> I stole.
> 
> Angels & Demons, the carmelengo's dress suffered badly. It is a thing, with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cataclysm.

"Oh, why you little– You know that's not what I meant."

"Hm." she let him keep up his glare, "Yeah. I know, I know."

She came as close to flouncing as ever, which wasn't very.

"Come on."

Mary buttoned a token button back, before slinking after her. He carried the old camera, (which, should be working just fine, by now).

She figured it would take 'til the hallway, for him to regain his ridiculous bravado.

"I've seen you with blond hair, shoes with buckles, & stockings. You're seriously going to tell me that you've never had anything up your ass, in all this time?"

She was curious, & letting it consume her.

"You know what they say about curiosity, cat."

"You've been in _my_ ass."

His ears went that alarming, bloody red.

(He loved it, naturally. She came & went with it... Adored it, in foreplay. Regretted it, the next day.)

Radio silence, from her companion.

 _He can never not be in control–_ Tobias had told her, & she saw the truth in it.

It was getting damn hard to keep what she knew buried. She very badly wanted to restrain Mary & tear him apart, mentally.

Then, put him back together, of course.

The door to the suite was ajar. She pressed it open, slowly. A lot of things happened, all at once.

She was grabbed roughly from behind, & thrown in the general direction of a plain chair. She didn't even recognize it. Tumbling forward, she realized she was meant to sit astride it.

"That's _right_ , you filthy little whore." her skirt was being bunched up, "No underthings? You disgusting slut–"

Great. Fantastic. He wasn't even insulting her in Italian.

"Hey–" Mary protested, scrambling to put the camera somewhere... Anywhere.

"Shut up, corpse fucker. Lower than the lowest piece of shit... Perché non sei morto?!"

She blinked. Oh, no. No, no, no. This was bad.

She wondered if Sweden was too far away.

Thick, heavy jute ropes were binding her to the chair–

Like a pillory.

Sure it was different. It was improvised. It still wasn't something she wanted to revisit, & she began to struggle against the rough ropes.

Mary launched himself like an avenging little bat. Basil flung him aside, & tightened the ropes painfully.

'Oh, shit. That was quicker than I anticipated.' came the deep, welcome rumble in her head.

'Help!' she thought back, 'I don't know _how_ , Tobbe, but, help!'

There was an ominous pause.

'Fuck. I'm at an IKEA... What the hell set this off?'

She was trying desperately to keep it together. Basil was being unreasonable, & calling her every word for whore in any language he could think of.

Mary was getting ready to attack, again.

"NEJ. Vad i helvete försöker du bevisa, din råtta jävel?"

Lunged straight for the neck. An interesting choice, all things considered.

'Back to fucking square one.' she heard Tobias mutter. 'I've got to get somewhere more appropriate, to sort this mess out.'

Mary & Basil were actively fighting, now... which was hardly unusual, but–

'I'm sorry, Dix.' a fraught pause, 'Get the fuck _away_ from that morose, mad motherfucker.'

"–No fucking cause to stage what _almost_ killed her, you miserable old shit!"

That was because the miserable old shit ended up finally being the one to kill her.

Indeed.

Mary was kind of winning. He tried to play it off, but, was as surprised as she. As soon as he could get away, he came forward with one of his little pen-knives.

They all found somewhere to stash the knives.

"You okay?" he asked.

No. She most assuredly was not.

He looked up, apparently getting messages from the Swedish connection.

He shook his head.

"Nah. It's all garbled. I'm getting more... impulse prompts."

She got an odd chuckle, in her mind.

'We just touched dicks, is all.'

She snorted. She had to stop herself from devolving into hysterics.

'Get out, Dix. He's just gonna keep taking it out on you.'

She rubbed her wrists.

"Maybe I deserve it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to pay the piper, I suppose...  
> 🐁  
> Basil really is a diabolical motherfucker. Even his revenge is extra.
> 
> Mary's happy to fill in as the romantic hero. I know. Does it make sense? No.
> 
> And, Tobbe? So helpful, our Tobbe... I wrote this, right after that girl saw him in an IKEA.
> 
> There is a metric ton more to this thing, but, I might do Tobbe w/ Dawna's Kentucky furniture, first.
> 
> Tell me what you think, comments are crack, have a nice day. 😽

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know my love for "Jonny". I've been meaning to mention him, for ages.  
> (Wasteland. Go. Go!)
> 
> Now, Dix, you may be thinking... That wasn't so bad.
> 
> We've only just begun.


End file.
